Walk Over Us
by ValandMarcelle
Summary: They were newsies, not soldiers.
1. Crutchie Worries

**Hello all, I have another Newsies tale for you! Just a fair warning, this is going to be quite sad and contains a fair amount of angst. Why? Because for some odd reason, that seems to be my forte. Now, I would just like to give some background information so that this will hopefully make a bit more sense**.

**First of all, this story takes place during the beginningnof the American involvement in World War I, which was in 1917. As this is clearly an AU, thr government is very evil and corrupt, and forces the newsies to become soliders in order to have a larger force. I know this is not what actually happened, for several reasons, but this is all done for the purpose of storytelling. I did try to do a bit of reseach, but it won't come in until later in the story. Many facts may have been changed, and I realize this. As it is an AU, these were done intentionally. Please bear with me, as I'm not particularly well-versed in this area of history. **

**Enjoy! **

**-Marcelle **

* * *

"It ain't your fault, there's nothing you can do,"

"But if you'se all get-"

"That ain't gonna 'appen, Crutchie. Okay? We're gonna come back and we'se gonna be fine. All of us."

Crutchie Morris wished he could believe his friend. After all, Jack Kelly had never been wrong before, not for a s long as Crutchie had known him. But he couldn't see any way Jack could be right this time. Especially when he was making promises they both knew he may not have been able to keep. Especially in 1917. Especially what was now being known as "The Great War."

"This gimp leg ain't so useful no more, huh?" Crutchie chuckled dryly, his grin turning quickly into a scowl as he glared at the ground from the top of the lodging house. He'd come up there as soon as the letter had come, hoping no one would come after him amidst the chaos that had been delivered. But of course, Jack had, because Jack could always tell when one of his boys was upset. But then, upset wasn't nearly strong enough a word to describe how Crutchie felt. Devastated was more like it. Horrified. Useless. Helpless.

"That gimp leg is keepin' you alive, Crutch! It's keepin' you safe here," Jack argued, his words stern and almost angry as he knelt down to where his younger friend was sitting on an overturned box. "You'se ain't gonna have ta go ta war now. You should be happy!"

"Not when you'se all hafta go! How can I be happy when I could lose you guys?" Crutchie shouted in return, rising to his feet as quickly as he could. Jack rose as well, staring at Crutchie with shock written on his features, as though he had never seen the disabled boy worked up before. In fact, as Crutchie considered it more, he realized that this was probably the case.

He prided himself on attempting to remain optimistic in nearly any situation, but this was a scenario that didn't seem to have even the faintest inkling of a silver lining. How could there be? His friends were newsies, not soldiers. Sure, they could pack a punch when they wanted to, but how could they be expected to shoot guns at other guys while hiding in a trench somewhere in Europe? It just didn't add up.

Apparently the government had thought otherwise. They had determined that the United States military hadn't yet reached it's recruitment quota, and that the excess amounts of newsies in New York, or maybe even across the country, would perfectly suit their needs. After all, the majority of the newsies were orphans, boys who didn't have a shred of known family left, or even a penny to their names. So, the government must have thought, what did they have to lose? Why not send the newsboys out to risk their lives for men who had never given a hang about them in the first place? men like Joseph Pulitzer?

It was a foul, cruel idea, Crutchie thought, but he had to admit that it must have made sense to the big shots. There were already plenty of underage boys that were enlisting of their own will, lying about their age, and the letters the lodging house boys had received dictated that they were to do the same.

"So you'se really gonna expect the boys ta lie ta the recruiters 'bout their age?" Crutchie asked, quieter now as he leaned against the railing of the rooftop. Jack drifted over beside him, staring out over the city lights, an almost lost look on his face. Crutchie could plainly see how hard the entire situation was on him. He knew Jack considered himself the older brother of all the newsies, that he couldn't stand to see any of them hurt.

Crutchie knew how guilty Jack had felt when the first attempt of the strike had failed, when he had put the others in danger and Crutchie himself had been hauled off to the Refuge. But he couldn't possibly imagine what was going through the older boy's mind now, when the only family both of them had ever known was going off to war, and there was nothing either of them could do to stop it. Jack couldn't keep them out of danger. And he obviously knew it.

"I...I guess we got no choice, huh?" Jack sighed, putting his full weight on the railing and shaking his head. "If we don't, they'd come afta us an' make us go anyway. Why make it harder than we gotta?"

"You're right. I just...I can't believe you'se all are gonna go without me," Crutchie murmured, avoiding Jack's eyes as his friend turned to face him. There was nothing the elder newsie could say to him, nothing he could do. Crutchie had been the only one at the lodging house who had gotten a different letter. All because of the gimp.

The government had apparently also determined that Crutchie's leg was a liability. The officially-sealed document he had received clearly outlined that he was "unfit for duty" and "forbidden from enlistment" due to the fact that he was unable to move to the full capacity of the average man. Although the letter hadn't come right out and said it directly, Crutchie could between the lines well enough to know what they were really trying to say. This wasn't for his own safety, but rather for the advantage of the military.

If they were in the middle of a battle somewhere, Crutchie wouldn't be able to fight as well as the others. His friends-or maybe even older soldiers, too-would be more concerned about keeping the little cripple boy alive rather than defending the freedom of America. If they needed to make a quick escape, he would only slow them down. There was no place for a gimp in the army, and so Crutchie was forced to stay in New York. The government had made that plain and simple to him. But that didn't make it any less painful.

"You're gonna be alright, Crutch. I promise," Jack tried to assure him, and Crutchie stared at him for a moment with a raw kind of disbelief.

"You really think I'm worried about myself? I ain't the one who's goin' overseas just ta get shot at!" The words sounded rude and almost uncalled for, even to himself, but Crutchie knew he couldn't take them back.

"This ain't my choice! If I had it my way, I'd take the place of every one of the guys! Or I'd stay here with you'se and Katherine instead of goin' over to that nightmare! But we ain't got that choice, none of us!" Jack flew away from the railing and met Crutchie's eye, his glare laced with such a ferocity that Crutchie wasn't sure who it was directed towards—himself or the situation. Most likely the latter, he decided. Jack sighed again, turning back to face the Manhattan skyline. "So we just gotta deal with it."

"What are you gonna do, Jack?" Crutchie's voice was quiet again as he scanned his friend's face. There was a determined set to it, displaying a conscious decision being formed inside, a plan being forged with a single goal in mind.

"I'm gonna keep 'em safe, Crutch. No matta what I gotta do, I'm gonna make sure they'se okay," His fists clenched around the railing, and Crutchie could see Jack swearing himself to that oath. Crutchie only hoped he would be able to uphold it

"But what if you'se aren't together? They could pretty easily split you guys up, ya know," he pointed out, shooting a sideways glance at his friend, who merely shook his head in response.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I'm afraid of," he said, still fixating his gaze at the city below. "I…I honestly don't know what I'd do then, Crutch. For once, I don't have all the answers."

"I wish I could help ya, Jack. Maybe you just gotta trust that they'll be okay somehow. They can take care of themselves just fine here," Crutchie attempted to reason, knowing how weak his argument was but hoping it would bring Jack at least a small bit of reassurance—he certainly needed it. But the look his older brother wore on his face proved that his efforts had fallen on deaf ears.

"Yeah, they're fine here in New York, where the bulls and the Delancys is all we got ta be worried about. But over there, where guys are gettin' killed every minute? With guns and tanks and who knows what else? I'm just havin' a hard time believin' that we'se all gonna-" He cut himself off, catching the slightly terrified look on Crutchie's face. "Aw, man, I'm sorry, Crutch. I was just tellin' ya a minute ago that we'd all be okay. Why should you believe that if I don't?" He chuckled sheepishly, something Crutchie was surprised he was even capable of at the moment. But still he could here Jack's words ringing in his years.

Of course Jack had tried to tell him earlier that they would be fine. Crutchie had been so worked up that it was probably the best course of action Jack could have taken to calm him down. But now that they had both taken time to dwell on the situation from a rational angle, the reality of it seemed to slap them in the face. There was every possibility that none of them would come out of there in one piece, or even come out at all. And the thought of losing his entire family like that, all at once, while he was stuck in Manhattan scared him to his very core.

"N-No...you're right. No sense in tryin' ta hide it, you an' me both know it's the truth," Crutchie mumbled defeatedly, sighing and beginning to shuffle his way to the ladder that led back down to the lodging house. He was hyper-aware of Jack's eyes on him as he slowly lowered himself down to sit on the edge of the roof, right above the first rung of the ladder, but he couldn't seem to force himself to acknowledge them.

"Crutchie."

Jack's voice was stern, demanding, but still the younger boy pretended to take no notice.

"Crutchie, look at me."

Well, there was no use trying to defy an order like that. Crutchie turned to face the boy who had taken him under his wing all those years ago, whose features were set in an immovable conviction.

"I promise you that we are gonna try our absolute hardest to come home. Every single one of us. We ain't got no intentions of leaving ya alone again Understand?"

The words held so much truth that Crutchie couldn't help but believe them. But still, he couldn't ignore one lingering thought, one looming doubt-even Jack Kelly could be wrong sometimes. Crutchie just wished with everything he had that it would not be this time. Not when it mattered most.


	2. Jack Rallies

Jack made his way down the ladder and back into the lodging house, helping Crutchie down along with him. The rest of the newsies sat clustered in the room, sitting alone or in pairs on the bunk beds. Jack's resolve nearly broke in half at the sight of them-his ragtag group of rebels, a force to be reckonded with, known for seizing the day. His brave batallion, finally defeated.

Some of them still wore looks of utter outrage on their features, especially Race, who sat smoldering with the government recuitment letter balled up in tightly clenched fists. Others seemed stunned-Finch's eyes scanned the letter repeatedly, as though he was stuggling to comprehend what it was asking of him, and Henry's eyebrows seemed permenantly draw together in confusion.

And then there were the scattered few that looked scared out of their minds. Jojo's eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared down at the ground in front of him, unresponsive as Buttons tried to coax words out of him, and Jack could see Specs blinking away traces of tears from his eyes as quickly as he was pretending to clean his glasses.

At the back of the room was Romeo, who sat with his head in his hands, shaking so badly that Jack could see it from where he stood. And then it hit him-Romeo was thirteen years old. There wasn't a boy in the room who was older than sventeen. And the government was ready to ship them off to war without a thought as to what would become of them. So much for the land of the free.

"Hey, guys, uh...listen up," Jack finally ventured, clearing his throat as heads slowly turned in his direction. Crutchie stood next to him, standing tall with a kind of resolution, as though he was determined to keep it together for Jack's sake. Of course, judging from the conversation they'd just had on the rooftop, it was safe to say that this was most likely the case. Jack's eyes swept the gathering of newsboys, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "I...I know this looks bad, And it is, believe me, but...we're gonna get through it."

"'Ow can ya say somethin' stupid like that, Jack?" a voice shouted as soon as Jack had finished speaking, and he tuned to see Race rounding on him with an anger he was certain they all had in common at the moment. "We'se all know that ain't true! It's war, Jack, ya don't just _get though_ somethin' like that!"

"Race..." Crutchie murmured, his eyes wide as he took a labored step towards the other boy. Race merely glared at him as well, stopping Crutchie in his tracks,

"Shut up, Crutchie, you ain't got no room ta talk!"

"Hey, you can shut your mouth, too, it ain't his fault!"

A tense moment passed between the two eldest newsies, the rest of the boys not daring to even move, lest the wrath of either Jack or Race be turned on them. Finally, their leader sighed, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair, a gesture that he knew probaly depicted him as a man much older than his own seventeen years.

"It's the dang government's fault, they'se the ones that's doin' this ta us. We can't go fighting each other now, not where we'se goin'," he said, voice sounding weary even to himself. Race met eyes briefly before glancing away again.

"Yeah. You're right," His words were clipped, but Jack accepted them, giving Race a nod before facing the others again. If he thought they'd seemed grim during the strikes, it was nothing compared to them now-at least the strike had given them a cuase, something real and tangible to fight for. What did they have now?

Each other, he suddenly thought, the realization rushing at him like a freight train. They couldn't fight for their country, the country that had turned its' back on them. None of the others had girls to come home to (of course, maybe Romeo did, Jack never knew with him). So the only thing left for them to fight for was their fellow newsies. Their brothers. Their family. It was all they had.

"We gotta do this for each other. We can't get out of it, those suits won't let us, not when they'se down on manpower. So we gotta be steong for each other so we can...try ta get home," Jack faultered on the word try, wincing internally and hoping the boys wouldn't catch his mistake. But they were smart, and the looks on their faces proved that the underlying meaning of his words hadn't escaped them.

"We'se gonna die, ain't we, Jack?"

Romeo had lifted his head from his hands, looking at Jack with such a resignment that it almost hurt to meet his eyes. _He's not even fourteen yet_, Jack reminded himself. _The kid's not even fourteen yet and he's gotta worry about whether or not he's gonna die in a war he don't even wanna be a part of._ Sure, the life of a newsie was hard and uncertain enough, but Jack had no doubts that this was considered cruelty.

Romeo's eyes were still trained on him, waiting for an answer to his grim question. The other newsies had turned to look at him again as well, as though Romeo had voiced what they all had been thinking-which was probably true. But Jack wasn't entirely sure how to answer a question like that, or even if he could answer it.

After all, the very possibility of their death was something he didn't have the strength to consider himself. His newsies-his brothers-laying facedown in the dirt, or staring blankly at an exploding sky. How could he answer Romeo with those images flashing through his mind?

He didn't see the point in lying to them, but why should he scare them even more than they already were? There didn't seem to be a clear approach this time.

"'Course you're not! You'se all gotta come back so I won't be by my lonesome, don'tcha?" A voice piped up from beside him, and Jack looked up to see Crutchie grinning slightly at Romeo. The young kid blinked a few times, as though he was trying to find reassurance in the crippled boy's words.

"Y-Yeah, I...I guess dat's true enough..." he mumbled, faintly returning Crutchie's smile. Jack couldn't help but feel a certain awe for his disabled friend, wondering how after that had happened-and everything that was about to happen-he could still find some form of optimism, or at least fake it if he couldn't actually feel it himself. Either way, it certainly worked.

"It's plenty true! We ain't gonna leave Crutchie by 'imself, are we, boys?" Jack took the lead, hoping he still had it in him to rally the newsies together like he had during the strike.

"No..." came the scattered reply, and Jack managed a grin.

"Exactly! We promised him, and do we ever go back on a promise?" He could feel the confidence returning to his voice, traces of the strong Jack Kelly everyone was used to.

"No," The newsies words were less tentative, as though they were more sure of themselves. Jack's grin grew wider at the sound of it as he threw an arm around Crutchie's shoulder.

"Right! So don't any of you'se go quittin' on us now, alright? We's gonna need every one of ya if we're gonna make this work," He worked ebery ounce of conviction he had into his voice, for he knew nothing less would suffice. He needed to convince them-but more importantly, he had to convince himself. Because he was leading them into this battle, and he was making sure they all came out.


	3. The Author Was Dumb

**Hello to everyone who actually reads this! It has been brought to my attention that I seem to have let out a bit of crucial information regarding the type of AU this story is. The story takes place in 1917 ****_instead _****of 1899. What this means is that the strike and everything that happens in the show occurs in 1917. Again, I realize that this may be a historically inaccurate (for example, in 1917, Charles S. Whitman would be the governor of New York rather than Roosevelt), but this isn't called an Alternate Universe story for nothing! To make a long story short, nothing in the show changes, which means that the characters are about the same age as they are in the show (or at least, about as old as I imagine they are...I used some artistic** **liberties with Romeo). I hope this clears everything up. I really should have said this at the beginning, and I apologize for that. Thank you, and please enjoy! **


	4. Katherine Questions

"This is really happening, huh?"

"Yeah, Ace. It really is."

Katherine caught Jack glancing away from her as she blinked tears out of her eyes, but she could hardly blame him for it. This was hard enough for him, for both of them. Everything they had ever worked and planned and hoped for was hanging in the balance, with nothing to stop it from falling entirely.

He had told her about the letters as soon as he had been able to slip out of the dreary shack he reported the lodging house had become, but it had still seemed surreal at the time, like a bad dream they were bound to wake up from at any moment. As the day drew closer, however, the more Katherine wondered if that moment had passed them by.

"I assume you've got some sort of plan, don't you?" she asked, noticing how distant her voice sounded, as though she was speaking to someone who was already gone. The notion scared her more than she expected, and it felt like several eternities had gone by before Jack answered.

"I wish I could say I did," he murmured, still not meeting her gaze. "But I got nothin' this time around."

Their fingers laced together, as though the touch could keep them from drifting apart, and Jack absently rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. Katherine wanted nothing more than to hold him, to feel the solid assurance of his arms around her, to do anything she could to help him face what was coming. Jack Kelly was strong, and she knew it, but this was something even he couldn't handle by himself. He needed Katherine, and she could tell.

"Don't tell me you've given up," she chastised, reaching out to the charismatic newsboy she knew was buried beneath the madness of Jack's thoughts. He was there, Katherine was sure of it, if only she could find the right words to bring him out.

"Nah, Plumber. Of course I ain't givin' up. I just...I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing to help them," he admitted, an anger stronger than Katherine had ever heard filling his voice to the brim. But there was also worry present, quiet but sound, a worry justified in every sense of the word. He was scared for his boys, she knew.

Katherine was as equally afraid, but a part of her constantly reminded her that her worry could never compare to Jacks'. The newsies were his brothers, his family, the boys he had spent the better part of his life caring for. She was the outsider, essentially the odd one out. Yes, she cared. Yes, she worried for them. But Katherine could not even begin to fathom what it was like for Jack.

"There's only so much you can do, Jack. You have to know that," she tried to reason instead, tightening her grip on his hand. He sighed, the small breath almost enough to shatter her heart. Oh, she was going to miss him so much.

"Yeah, I know," Jack's words were far from convincing, but he tried to give her a smile regardless. Katherine felt the tears threatening her lashes again, but she ignored them. Now was not the time.

"You'll do whatever you can, I know you will. That's the only thing I could expect from you," she admitted. The pain was spreading now, realization acting as a catalyst. Tonight was the last night they would have. Jack would leave in the morning, and she would spend every day after convincing herself that he would come back. "My noble Jack Kelly."

"Why, Katherine Plumber, I don't believe what I'm seeing," the boy chuckled dryly, his face showing his apparent disbelief. "Here I am, tryin' ta enjoy my last night in town with a beautiful, lovely woman such as yourself, and you're bringin' me down!" His attempt at humor was weak, and they both knew it, but Katherine smiled nonetheless as Jack turned to face her.

"Look, I know this is hard. I don't know how long I'll be gone, or..." He paused, expression turning wary as he seemed to rethinking his phrasing. "Or really anything about this at all. But what I do know is that you're gonna be the one to get me through it, Katherine.

"Ya know why? 'Cause it's gonna be you that I think about first thing every morning, how you'se is here callin' me back. It's gonna be you that I'm dreamin' about. Not Santa Fe anymore, just you. And when I get back, me and you, we're gonna have a life, Ace. A life where I'm drawin' for the World, and you're writin' for the Sun, and we get on each other's last nerve but we would do it again in a heartbeat. That's what I got waitin' for me here, Katherine. So don't worry about me. I'm gonna come back. I'd hafta be a dimwit to do anything else."

"Jack, I want to believe you, but-" Katherine's protest was cut off by Jack pressing his lips against hers, and all of her anxiety seemed to melt away like the colors of the sky did during a sunset. Suddenly, if only for that fleeting moment, all that was wrong with the world ceased to exist, and only they were left on the roof of the lodging house. There were no wars, no strikes, nothing that could possibly reach them. They shared a kiss that could have lasted forever.

"Have I ever lied to you?" Jack whispered once they had pulled away much too soon for Katherine's liking.

"I suppose you haven't, Mr. Kelly," she replied just a softly, as though a louder voice would shatter the moment they had created. But her thoughts had drifted to another point in time, another fight, another night filled with anticipation of what was to come. "Jack, do you remember that question I asked you once?"

"Ah, you're gonna have to be more specific," Jack said around a small laugh, gazing at Katherine with nothing but the utmost fondness in his eyes, a feeling she hoped she mirrored in her own.

"Just before the strike," she clarified, and recognition seemed to dawn on the newsboy sitting next to her. "The night before. Mind if I ask it again?"

"Go for it, Ace. I'm all ears."

"Are...are you scared?" Katherine certainly was. And that would never change. She would spend the next few weeks, months, and maybe even years trying to stop her mind from conjuring up all the things Jack could be facing. But she knew she had to trust him. Jack loved her, and she him. Nothing, not even the Atlantic Ocean could force that kind of a bond to break. So Katherine knew Jack could come home, and she would tell herself that on days when it seemed hard to believe. But still, she had to ask. She had to hear it from him.

Jack looked almost surprised, but the feeling seemed to fade away quickly as he looked towards the skyline once more. Then he turned back to her, and Katherine had never seen more sincerity etched into his features than she did at that moment, as he gave the same answer as he had on that night that now seemed so far away.

"Ask me in the mornin'."

* * *

**I hope my author's note helped clarify some things with this story! I will try to be updating more frequently now, in case anyone cares. Also, if there are suggestions for little one-shots or scenes that I should write, either connected to or seperate from this story, leave it in a review and I'll get on it! Thanks for reading!**

**-Marcelle **


	5. Race Changes

**It's about time I updated this, huh? For some reason, it's been difficult for me to write lately, a plague that I'm desperate trying to remedy. I hope you enjoy this latest enstallment! I'm sorry there's not much action as of now-I just really like character development/analysis, okay? **

**-Marcelle **

* * *

Race was almost certain he was going to do something illegal, and he didn't care in the slightest. He knew it was dangerous for him to care about anything, especially today of all days. It was the morning that the Manhattan newsies were due to report to the recruitment center to be shipped off to war, but why did he care? It wasn't as though he planned on actually going with them.

And what could the stinking government do about it anyway? Kill him? That was exactly what would have happened if he went along with them. So let them come-Racetrack Higgins was not going down in a trench shooting at other guy's heads. No way.

"Up and at 'em, boys. Busy day ahead," Jack came thundering down the lodging house stairs, the first one to venture into the day. He was right, it would be busy, but not in the way that their lives usually were. A day's worth of carrying the banner was one thing, but selling their souls over to the military was quite a different matter.

"Come on, guys. Elmer? Henry? Specs?" Race could hear Jack making his way between the beds, shaking each boy he named, either to wake them up if they were sleeping (which most of them were not), or to simply help encourage them to step into the turning point of their lives. "Gotta face this sooner or later, gang. Don't make it harder than it needs ta be." He was again met with silence, just as Race knew he would be.

"You're wastin' your breath, Kelly. Why ya gotta be such an idiot all the dang time?" he sighed, swinging his legs off the bed and meeting Jack's irritated glare as he stretched. "Ya know perfectly well they ain't gonna do this willingly. Quit kiddin' yourself."

"You're not helping any, Race. Shut your trap for once," Jack huffed in return, turning his back on the other boy with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey, I'm just bein' realistic," Race argued. "Which you oughta start thinkin' about bein'. Can't have the boys takin' orders from a loon..."

"Oh, yeah? I'm the loon?" Jack abandoned his attempt at waking Buttons to whirl around, his eyes narrowed at Race as they stared each other down. "At least I'm not the one mopin' around here tryin' to make everyone else as miserable as he is!"

"Don't I got a right ta be as miserable as I want?" Race countered, raising his voice as though it would help his argument. "The government already took all my otha rights away, and now you're tellin' me I ain't got no free speech neither?"

"That's not it, Race, you know it ain't like that!" Jack shouted in return, unintentionally meeting his goal of getting the other newsies up and moving. Several of them were raising their heads tentatively from their pillows, apprehensively watching the fight by wisely choosing not to get involved.

Jack and Race had been at constant odds ever since the letters had come; the leader's more rational approach to the matter clashing greatly with Race's desire to knock some big-wig heads around. The other boy couldn't even begin to fathom why Jack would be even remotely okay with letting them go through with what the government had asked of them.

The Jack Kelly they all knew would be getting them to fight tooth and nail to stop the injustice, but he instead was simply telling them to lie down and take it. Something was undeniably wrong about the whole situation.

"Then what is it, Jack? Huh?" Race questioned, letting his anger fuel him. "Pulitzer raises pape prices, we go on strike. Government wants ta send us to Europe to go hide in a hole, you say sure! This is like...like signin' our own death warrants! That's what it is!"

Silence overtook the lodging house at the words, which still seemed to hang in the air, a cruel reminder of what awaited them. Race almost wished he hadn't said them, if only for the sake of the boys, but maybe it was what Jack needed to hear.

There was no way they could do this, and if Race had to be morbid to make the slightly older newsie see that, then so be it. But Jack merely continued to glare at him, his lack of a rebuttal only succeeding in spurring Race further on in his rage.

"Fine. You can do whatever you want, Kelly. Bow down ta the bosses if that's what suits your fancy. But don't expect me ta follow your lead this time," He practically spat the words at his opponent before turning to the others, who still remained merely onlookers. "C'mon, guys. I know you'se all look up ta this traitor, but he clearly don't know what it means ta be a leader no more. Don't let him think he knows what's best for you'se."

Blinking eyes and half-hearted shrugs were the only reply Race was given, thoroughly convincing him that he had gotten nowhere with them. He cast an almost disappointed glance in their direction, meeting each of them in the eye-and then he made the mistake of looking at Romeo. He immediately wished he hadn't.

Never before had Race seen eyes filled with such confusion-and worse, tinged with what looked like betrayal. That was what bothered Race; why would Romeo feel betrayed by him?

Jack was the one who was perfectly comfortable with their participation in the Great War, not him. But still, it was there, and it was clearly directed at Race. And he absolutely hated it.

He quickly turned away from the kid's painful gaze and walked briskly out of the room, pointedly slamming the door behind him. Romeo's silent accusations had disturbed him more than Race would admit, even to himself, and he suddenly couldn't bear to be even near the lot of them.

He wouldn't let them guilt-trip him-couldn't let them-especially not Romeo, the runt of the litter. Race had made his decision, and he was going to see it through.

"You didn't mean that, right?" Romeo's voice sliced a hole straight through any conviction Race may have had, and he turned to see the younger boy standing a short distance away from him at the opposite end of the hallway. He spoke again, a tone of desperation making sure it was heard through his words. "Please tell me ya didn't mean it."

"What're ya talkin' about, kid?" Race snapped, hoping Romeo would pick up on the fact that he wanted to be alone, wanted nothing more than to avoid the conversation he could see on the horizon. But the kid was persistent if nothing else, and crossed the hallway until he was standing only a few feet in front of Race, as though a lack of distance would help to solve the problem.

"What ya said about not comin' with us," he clarified, and Race felt himself stiffen. This was going to be a lot more difficult than he thought. "I don't think you was serious."

"And why not, ya twerp?" Race wished the insult hadn't sounded as harsh as he had made it seem, but Romeo didn't seem phased in the slightest.

"Because you wouldn't leave us," He sounded so sure of himself, so sure of Race, that it was almost too much for the older newsie to deal with. He could take some pretty serious crap from the others, even Crutchie the optimist, but he found that his resolve always crumbled when it came to Romeo.

He couldn't be sure of the reason for this-maybe it was because he had been the one to find the kid in the first place, the one to save him from the streets and bring him to the lodging house to begin with. Perhaps a part of him, no matter how deep down it was, still felt responsible for Romeo. He tried as hard as humanly possible to push those feelings aside-Romeo could take care of himself.

"Well I as sure as heck ain't goin' over ta Europe," Race mumbled, scoffing at the very idea. He wasn't going with them, and that's all there was to it. Romeo could think whatever he wanted to on the matter, but it still wouldn't change the fact that Race was staying.

Sure, the lodging house would be a bit more empty than usual, but that was fine. It was more room for him. And sure, there would be hardly anyone around to mess with except for Crutchie, but that was just peachy too. Race would be able to handle small inconveniences such as those. War was an entirely different scenario, one that he hadn't let himself prepare for.

"Then what are you gonna do?" Romeo pressed, seeming to have been able to pick up on Race's thoughts and deciding to use them against him.

The little devil.

"I don't know, somethin'! Keep sellin' papes, I guess. That's the only thing I know 'ow ta do, ain't it?" Race's voice had dropped to a low mumble, and it became even harder to continue to meet Romeo's gaze. The younger boy sighed, as though steeling himself to say his next words.

"Look, Race...I know ya don't want ta do this. An' I don't, neither. But it ain't like we can just go on strike this time. We're ants compared ta the whole government, and we both know that. But if you don't come with us...who knows what would happen?" Romeo managed to get out, the slight tremor in his voice not seeming to daunt him from continuing in his reasoning.

His words almost tumbled out of him, as though he was unable to stop himself from speaking after he had started. "A-An' don't tell the guys this, but...I'm kinda scared, Race. I keep thinkin' of what could happen, ya know?"

"Yeah, I know," Race found himself nodding in reply, watching as Romeo seemed to shrink into himself. He was usually a bundle of energy, a boy who never let anyone make him out to be a lesser person or underestimate him. That confident nature seemed to have left him now, leaving Romeo as the kid Race usually forgot he really was.

"And you, you'se is really good at helpin' or distractin' people when they'se upset, so...I guess maybe if you wasn't gonna come for the rest of the guys...maybe you'd come for me?" He immediately fixed his eyes on the floor, as if his request was somehow wrong or shameful. "I think I'm gonna need your help. I know it's a lot ta ask, but…"

"Oh...ah...kid, I…" Race stammered, a rush of reactions overcoming him at Romeo's suggestion. He hadn't thought anyone needed him enough to care whether or not he accompanied the newsies in their military journey, and that in itself had been enough to stave off any guilt that might have swayed his decision. But Romeo had disproved his entire theory in a matter of minutes, and Race could almost physically feel his entire conviction fading away.

He couldn't let Romeo down now, not when he knew that the kid was counting on him. Besides, he had never wanted to abandon the others to begin with. If they wouldn't change their minds, then maybe he would have to change his own.

"Sure, Romeo. I guess I can tough it out for you'se," Race finally broke, ruffling the younger boy's hair and watching as relief seemed to wash over him, turning the corners of his mouth into a very slight smile.

Race slung an arm over his shoulder, leading him back down the hallway and into the main room of the lodging house, where the rest of the boys were still gathered. They were more active now than they had been a few minutes ago, and most of them were at least half-dressed as Race and Romeo entered the room.

The older newsboy caught Jack's eye, noticing how they seemed to widen for the briefest of seconds before returning to normal as their leader nodded in their direction.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, and Race raised an eyebrow at Jack's gesture towards redemption. It was his way of apology, Race was sure, and he figured holding a grudge against Jack now would only make things worse in the coming weeks.

"Yeah, sure," Race replied just as stiffly, glancing down at Romeo before heading towards his bunk. His mind reeled at the thought of what he was going to do, of the situation his entire family was in, but a small part of him continously entertained the same idea-perhaps he had made the right choice in deciding to join them after all.

Maybe it was time he stopped being too stubborn for his own good. Besides, someone needed him, and Race wasn't about to fail him now.

* * *

**I hope that met any expectations! Next chapter will focus on Crutchie, perhaps with an appearence from Katherine and/or Les. Don't forget to review, any and all suggestion for this story or others are welcome! **


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